Cho's Krabby Paddys
by xMitziGalx
Summary: During the usual shenanigans in the CBI office, Cho and Rigsby are assigned a new case - fluff ensues :) Rate M for strong language


Cho's Krabbie Paddy's

Once upon a time there was a Chinese looking dude called Cho. His real name was Kimball, but he got embarrassed about the feminine reference to his testicles so he joined a gang called the Chicago Park Bunny Boys and caught krabs.

This is where our story begins.

I feel myself burrowing, burrowing. Like a caterpillar outgrowing its cocoon, I wish to emerge a new man. A new me. I see furrows in the fibre of the world. Furrows in my skin, in my pistol pocket. But maybe that's just my chinky eyes.

They called me the ice man once. It pains me to remember why. The day I met Rigsby was the day I gave that jig up – it was time to move on – no more ice cube blow jobs for my fellow gang members. From now on, I was dedicated to Chigsby.

The CBI is a jungle, and I am its master. I see the people around me fade in and out of the foliage – like ghosts in my mind. Teresa Lisbon calls herself the boss, but she knows her place. That funky hair ain't fooling nobody, especially Jane.

It all started with Wayne bent over his desk. I was thrusting for the hole punch, whilst he rummaged through my drawers.

"Oh hey!" The man named Wayne exclaimed, in a truly Buzz Lightyear-esque style. "I've found the reports boss wanted."

I looked at the man in front of me, brow glistening from his efforts. A trickle of sweat ran into his dimpled chin. I took pleasure in this.

With a grunt, I closed the laptop screen and embraced Rigsby's frame. He stiffened at my touch, becoming turgid, like dew on a frosty morning, becoming solid at dawns gentle caress.

"K-Kim…" He stammered, flushing beet red. "You know how I feel about PDA's…"  
"Hey." I said in a deep, monosyllabic murmur. "My eyes are up here."

Rigsby searched in vain for the tiny lines I use for sight. I tell myself that one day he will find them. Finally, the man I love will gaze into my soul. But for now, he settles on my package.

"Close enough." I affirm, giving him an appreciative squeeze of the buttocks. He squeals innocently, like a school girl caught undressing after P.E.

"What are you fellows up to in here?"

My man and I swivel simultaneously, to be met by the sight of the formidable Patrick Jane. This was true competition. His eyes like those of a stroke victim's rivalled my own, and I knew Wayne got off on nothing more than widescreen vision.

"Jane." I growl, affirming my position as alpha. But his carefree lopsided smirk told me today was the crackdown.

"Kim." He smiled, and I sneered. There was nothing more I hated than that bastard using Wayne's pet name for me.

The man beside me cowers under our dominant ambiance. Like I said, the CBI is a jungle, and today the master is chosen.

From his back pocket, Jane produces a brown paper bag. Wrinkled, like his face, and probably his scrotum. So this is the mission we must embark on? I understand, oh great creator. I know what I must do.

"Girls, get in here."

Bursting forth from her office, Teresa Lisbon and Grace Vanpelt dance forward in nothing but full clown make up. Their graceful bodies sway in time with the music that suddenly starts playing from my closed computer, whilst their vibrant crimson noses shine as bright as their nipples.

"Let the challenge… BEGIN!" Announces Wayne, suddenly thawing from his gentle, timid pose. Like a maiden, freed from her father's overbearing clutches, Wayne prances over my desk, twirling with the grace of a ballet dolphin.

Grace and Teresa begin honking eachother's noses with a gentle 4 by 4 stroke. The act is so sensual; I can barely contain myself any longer.

I leap, like a tiger on an elk, bringing Jane to the CBI floor. We commence a wrestle of not just our bodies, but of our minds. I can feel him inside me. Not my butt, my brain. He rummages through my thoughts, like a careless bystander would rummage through an abandoned newspaper, killing time. This is what I feel like. Time, slowly dying, under the sympathetic punches of Jane's fists against my face. The pages of my brain spill open, letting him into my secret world.

Finally, he has straddled me, and I know it is over. The bag appears once more, like a cannon fire, announcing victory. He rustles within it, and finally, Jane pulls out a krabby patty.

"Eat it." He commands.

From my peripheral, I see Lisbon and Grace shuffle forward; tears cause their clown make up to run down their naked bodies, like rives down mountains. They continue honking eachother – the pace heightened, anxious. The end is here.

Wayne swoops into my eyes, and I feel great emotion rising in my chest. Building, building, becoming noise until my throat roars with a cry of defeat. With his powerful right hand, Jane forces the paddy into my mouth, and all I can see is his face. Rigsby, watching terrified. Does he know who I am? Tears blur my vision, and his image escapes me, falling forever into a blurry canvas of nothing.

I don't know what's in my future, but as time marches on, I know it can no longer be a reflection of my past.


End file.
